Crashing the Party
by Dolen Feredir
Summary: Light-hearted one-shot: A simple Hallowe’en salt-and-burn proves tricky for the Winchester brothers.


Title : Crashing the Party

Author : Dolen Feredir

Characters : Sam and Dean

Pairings : None

Rated : G

Disclaimer : They do not belong to me. I make no money off of this.

Summary : A simple Hallowe'en salt-and-burn proves tricky for the Winchester brothers. Just a short, light-hearted story.

Author's Note : Originally written in October, 2006. Sadly, it's missed being posted for Hallowe'en three years in a row now. Better late than never, I suppose.

* * *

"Are you drunk?" Sam looked at his brother incredulously. "You're kidding or something, right?"

Dean grinned. "Nope. Not drunk and not kidding."

With an exasperated sigh, Sam tried to reason with the older man. "You do realize that the place will be crawling with people."

"Yup."

"How do you expect us to get in? That place is completely out of our league."

"On any other day, I'd agree with you, little brother, but not tonight." Dean's grin grew. "Tonight is Hallowe'en, and the Victorian Oak Hotel is hosting a costume party. We get ourselves some costumes, and no one will be the wiser."

That gave Sam some pause. A particularly nasty spirit had popped up in the swank hotel and was causing problems for the staff. The brothers had quickly connected the appearance of the ghost with the recent renovations in the hotel lobby.

The Winchesters had attempted to gain entry to the building, but had been turned away immediately. Apparently the desk staff could tell that the hunters were not their usual clientele.

Subsequent efforts to sneak in had been quelled just as quickly. It was embarrassing, really. Sam and Dean could, and did, break into heavily-secured buildings all the time. The staff of the Victorian Oak put the FBI to shame. They even had pictures of the brothers pinned behind the counter, so everyone from every shift knew their faces.

With costumes, though . . .

Sam shrugged. It might just work.

"Look, if it doesn't work, we can always leave them to their ghost problems, right?" Dean joked. "You always wanted to dress up when we were kids. Now's your chance."

"You don't need to convince me, Dean. This could be our only way of getting in that place," Sam stated. "I'm just wondering about the logistics. What about costumes? It's Hallowe'en. There probably aren't any left at the rental place."

"Already taken care of, dude. They had a couple costumes left." The grin on Dean's face made Sam inexplicably nervous.

* * * * * * *

"Sam! Come out!" Dean knocked on the bathroom door again. "You're wasting time!"

"I can't believe you did this to me." Sam's voice was muffled behind the door. "This is humiliating, Dean."

The elder Winchester tried not to laugh. "I tried to find something else, but it was the only thing they had left in your size. Honest, Sam."

He plucked at his own costume thoughtfully. It wasn't one he would have normally picked, but Dean had to admit that being a pirate was pretty fun. The eye patch and moustache concealed his appearance, and the costume allowed for weapons to be carried without the fear of arrest. Who would assume that the props were real?

There were other perks as well. Dean had to admit that he made a damn hot pirate.

The bathroom door creaked open slowly. "How am I supposed to work in this?"

"Sammy, stop being a baby and let's go." Dean tried to catch a glimpse of his brother, but Sam was still standing behind the door. "It's a simple salt-and-burn. You could do that in your sleep."

A long-suffering sigh came from behind the door. Sam walked out.

Only years of training kept Dean from breaking out into laughter.

Sam looked . . . well . . . adorable. Ridiculous, but adorable.

Dean had always maintained that Sam had perfected the puppy-dog look. Now, the younger Winchester was proving it.

Floppy ears hung down beside Sam's face (which, oddly enough, had already taken on the kicked-puppy expression Dean knew so well). The long tail hanging down behind him seemed to wag as Sam shifted uncomfortably.

Dean bit his lip to keep his straight face. "You need to put on the nose, Sammy. Someone will recognize you."

Miserably, Sam held up the small nose. It was brown plastic and would cover enough of his face to allow entry to the hotel.

When he put it on, Dean couldn't hold back his laughter any longer.

"Where am I supposed to carry anything?" Sam asked irritably, ignoring Dean's mirth. "I'm sure as hell not carrying a gas can in my pants."

"We'll find the body and bring it out," Dean reasoned, bringing himself under control. "We can salt and burn outside."

"Let's get this over with." Sam headed for the door. "I think I'm the world's tallest dog. Man, Hallowe'en sucks."

The elder Winchester couldn't agree with that assessment. He was in a kick-ass costume on his way to a ritzy hotel where he was going to get to set something on fire and enjoy his brother's embarrassment. This was shaping up to be the best Hallowe'en ever.

Dean locked the door behind them. Sometime in the future he'd tell Sam the truth. There had been dozens of possible costumes for someone Sam's height. He could have been Darth Vader, a zombie or even the dude from V For Vendetta.

Dean flipped open his camera phone and followed his brother to the car. Yup, someday he'd tell Sam that the puppy costume was no accident.

Until then, they had a party to crash.

* * *


End file.
